


all i need's a fraction of your happy heart (all i need is you)

by emmerrr



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: 5+1 Things, Feelings, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, vague spoilers for the opal story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-18 03:11:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18112058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmerrr/pseuds/emmerrr
Summary: 5 times Adam asked Ronan for affection/reassurance, and 1 time he explained why, spanning the first year of their relationship.





	all i need's a fraction of your happy heart (all i need is you)

**Author's Note:**

> based on a tumblr post by @neveronceintoit which said:
> 
> "nice thing to think about: adam feels like he’s allowed to ask ronan for affection when he wants it
> 
> (ronan is always happy to oblige)"

 

1.

The dust hasn’t quite settled when Adam goes back to school.

After school, he goes to work.

And then when he gets _back_ from work, he somehow finds the time to do homework, and to work on his college applications.

It’s a familiar road, somewhat comforting in its monotony, but it feels... _strange_ now. Like Adam’s floating somewhere outside his body and just watching himself go through the motions. He knows that it’s because he’s tired and grieving and possibly suffering from some sort of PTSD, or _something._ It’s hard to explain. It’s like he’s there but he’s not really _there._ Everything seems sort of far away.

After Gansey had died and then been resurrected or remade or whatever exactly had happened when they asked Cabeswater to sacrifice itself—and _God,_ doesn’t that just ache, deep in Adam’s soul—Adam had accompanied Ronan back to the Barns and stayed throughout the rest of the weekend. Not that there was much left of it, but it had seemed important for Ronan not to be alone in light of everything that had happened.

He didn’t want to leave him. And he didn’t think Ronan wanted to be left.

Adam had been almost too scared to touch him, the marks on Ronan’s neck standing out starkly; a harsh reminder of how it had felt to utterly lose all autonomy over his hands. He’d said he was sorry, but that just seemed to make Ronan upset.

“Don’t,” he said, and when Adam had tried to protest, hoarsely added, _“Please._ It wasn’t you. Don’t say you’re sorry.”

He’d covered Adam’s shaking hands with his own, and for that moment, it had been enough.

But then dawn broke on Monday morning, and Declan and Matthew were on their way—because of course they were, Aurora had _died_ —and it was suddenly clearly a very personal, private family matter of which Adam had no part.

So he went to school, feeling like shit.

By Thursday, Adam’s all but dead on his feet as he gets back from Boyd’s and climbs the stairs to his apartment. He hasn’t seen Ronan since he left the Barns, but he borrowed Gansey’s phone at school on Tuesday so he could call and check in.

(Ronan actually picked up in a relatively timely manner, and Adam couldn’t figure out whether to be reassured by this or concerned; after all, Ronan has never been particularly easy to contact via his phone. Regardless, he’d said he was okay, and it had been good to hear his voice, so Adam would take it.)

As soon as he gets inside, Adam heads straight for the thermostat. The nights are colder now that they’re into November and Adam has carefully budgeted for how much he can afford to have the heating on. An hour before he goes to bed, and then he should be alright through the night.

That sorted, he goes for a quick shower. The water never seems to get above lukewarm, which was fine in the summer when the heat was almost unbearable, but isn’t ideal heading into winter.

It’s fine. It’s just another thing on Adam’s list; a thing he won’t have to worry about one day because he’ll have a power shower with an easily adjustable temperature gauge and he won’t even have to _think_ about the cost. One day.

He’s dressed in thin plaid pyjama pants and an old baggy t-shirt when there’s a knock at the door. Adam, in the midst of towelling off his still-damp hair, pauses.

It’s pretty late, so it won’t be Mrs Ramirez or anyone from the church. It’s possible that it’s Gansey, but Adam seriously doubts it; he’s been round at Blue’s most nights this week, the women at 300 Fox Way wanting to keep an eye on him.

Really, there’s only one person it _could_ be.

Adam opens the door, treacherous heart starting to race.

And it _is_ Ronan leaning in the doorway, a small backpack slung over his shoulder. He looks utterly worn out, but his mouth curls in a tired grin when he sees Adam.

“Hey,” Adam breathes out.

“Parrish.”

Adam steps aside to let Ronan in and then closes the door behind him, turning the lock. When he turns back around, the grin has slid off Ronan’s face, replaced by a somewhat unsure expression.

He rubs the back of his head self-consciously. “So, uh, can I stay here tonight?”

The question takes Adam by surprise and he cocks his head to the side. “Since when do you ask, Lynch?”

Ronan shrugs, but lets his backpack slide off his shoulder and fall to the floor with a light thump. “It’s called manners, Parrish.”

“Right.” Adam grins. “Sorry. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you that I forgot how unfailingly polite you always are.”

“That’s me.”

It has, in fact, not quite been four whole days since Adam last saw Ronan, but it somehow feels monumental. It’s only been a week since Ronan’s eighteenth birthday; only a week since Ronan kissed him and Adam kissed him back.

When you’re on the precipice of something new, four days feels like a lifetime.

It’s so good to see him.

Ronan shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it into the corner of the room. “Do you have homework?”

“Just a little,” Adam says. “I had a free period so did most of it then. It won’t take me long to finish. Twenty minutes or so.”

Ronan nods. “Don’t let me keep you,” he says, then pulls some pyjamas out of his rucksack, as well as his toothbrush. “I’m just gonna—” he gestures towards the bathroom, and then goes through and shuts the door.

Adam sits at his makeshift desk and pulls his English essay out of his messenger bag. He only has the conclusion to write and then a couple of math problems to finish, and he focuses his brain entirely on them. He’s vaguely aware of Ronan leaving the bathroom and sitting down but he doesn’t allow himself to be distracted; it means he can give Ronan his full attention when he’s done.

It takes less than twenty minutes, as promised, and Adam packs everything he needs for the next day into his bag, then looks over towards his mattress.

Ronan’s sitting on it with his back against the wall, his headphones on and his eyes closed. He looks asleep, but Adam isn’t fooled. He goes over and sits opposite, crossing his legs.

Ronan feels the mattress dip and opens his eyes. He adjusts his position so he’s mirroring Adam’s posture, their knees touching, and then he presses a button on his phone and takes his headphones off.

For a moment, they just stare at each other.

It’s almost hard to look at Ronan. The marks on his neck are fading now but still visible, and as Adam tracks up he sees the dark shadows that give away how little sleep Ronan’s been getting; the haunted look in his eyes.

“You look tired,” Ronan says, and the absurdity makes Adam snort. It’s _true,_ but that’s not really the point.

“Bit rich coming from you.”

Ronan smirks—Adam’s relieved to see it even if it’s just a glimmer of what he knows it can be—and offers a two fingered salute as if to say _touché._

As close as they are sitting together, Ronan’s made no move to reach out and touch Adam. Nor has Adam, but it has more to do with the fact that he’s not sure how welcomed it would be. He knows what _he_ wants to do, but he’s not sure what _Ronan_ needs right now.

“Are your brothers still at the Barns?” he asks quietly, and Ronan drops his head back against the wall, exhaling slowly as he goes.

“Yeah. They’re leaving next week.”

“Matthew’s not staying?”

Ronan shakes his head, eyes closed. “No. Declan’s already sorted him out with a new school.” There’s a pause. “He wants me to go with them.”

“What?” It’s out before Adam can stop it. He can’t be selfish right now; of course Ronan should be with his family, if that’s what he wants.

Ronan opens his eyes again. “I’m not going,” he says. “There’s Opal, and…” He trails off and shrugs. His voice cracks down the middle when he speaks again. “It’s home, Parrish. I just got it back. I can’t leave right now.”

“No,” Adam agrees. “Course not. You should do whatever you want.”

“That’s why I’m here,” he says, and offers Adam a weak smile.

Adam wants so badly to reach out, to hold on to Ronan and never let him go; to lie down and fall asleep and keep Ronan as safe as he possibly can. He wants Ronan’s arms around him, he wants their hands interlocking, he wants to be kissed.

But everything’s so fragile. He doesn’t want to upset the balance. So he tentatively reaches out and takes Ronan’s hand and says the only thing he _can_ say. “If you need to talk, or not talk, I’m here.”

Ronan nods, and Adam can feel him trembling just a little. “I know. And if you need,” he takes a shuddering breath, “fuck, _anything,_ I’m here too.”

Adam can’t take it anymore.

“Then can I have a hug?” The question hangs there, and it sounds pathetic as soon as Adam’s asked it, but it’s out there now; it’s been heard.

Ronan stares for a second and then grins and shakes his head — not in refusal, but in disbelief. His cheeks are tinged pink but he squeezes Adam’s hand. “Yeah, Parrish, you can have a fucking hug, c’mere.”

Relief rushes through Adam and he lunges forward, wrapping his arms tight around Ronan and pressing his face into his neck. Ronan pulls Adam closer, onto his lap, his arms locked around Adam’s middle, a sturdy hand on his spine.

Everything in Adam starts to unwind. It’s something about being held so tightly, it’s the smell of Ronan’s skin, it’s feeling Ronan press a brief and surreptitious kiss to his temple that Adam is absolutely not going to mention in case it stops it from happening again. It’s that right now, pressed up against each other, is the first time all week that Adam’s actually felt like he can _breathe._

He’s not sure if he’s comforting Ronan, or if Ronan’s comforting him, or both.

All he knows is that he’s never been held like this before, and from here on out, he only _ever_ wants to be held like this.

And all he had to do was _ask._

* * *

 

2.

The last of Adam’s college applications gets sent off on a Friday.

It’s been a mad rush to get everything done—not that he wasn’t on top of it, just that he kept meticulously going over it all, making the most miniscule changes over inconsequential things that no one would notice except him—and as a treat, Adam had booked the whole weekend off work. He could make up the hours now that he’d freed up a bit of time, and for now, he wants to go to the Barns, to Ronan.

He wants to _sleep._

Unfortunately, that’s easier said than done. The problem with sending all his applications off is that it’s now officially out of his hands, and all he can do is wait. Obviously he still has to do well at school, but that’s always been the plan; other than that, he’s stuck, utterly at the mercy of the admissions staff at various colleges around the country.

He’s been working towards this deadline for so long and now it’s passed and it’s all he can think about. What if his personal essay was shit, what if he’d typo’d his fucking _name..._

“Parrish,” Ronan says, his arm flung over Adam’s waist as they lie in bed. “I can fucking _feel_ how tense you are. Go to sleep.” His voice is rough and disgruntled and he presses his face into the back of Adam’s neck.

Adam loves him like this.

“I’m _trying,”_ he replies. “I can’t turn my brain off.”

Ronan hums thoughtfully. He gently grips Adam’s hip and rolls him onto his back before hovering over him, that fantastic smirk on his face. “Might be able to help you with that,” he says, before Adam hooks a hand around the back of his neck and pulls Ronan down the rest of the way.

After Ronan has helped Adam not to think for a while, he _does_ manage to fall asleep, but he wakes up when Ronan gets out of bed (far too early), and although he drifts in and out for the next few hours, he’s restless and plagued by academic related nightmares.

By the time he drags himself out of bed, he has a pounding headache that feels worse with every step he takes. He showers, which only makes him feel better for the duration of time he’s in there, but as soon as he’s out of the immediate warmth of the water it’s back again with full force.

He returns to Ronan’s room to scrounge up the comfiest clothes he can find which basically means a thick pair of Ronan’s pyjama pants and a fleecy hoodie. He leaves the hood up, and then painstakingly makes his way downstairs and into the kitchen.

Ronan’s in there, pouring himself a cup of coffee that he’ll add more sugar than is strictly necessary to. He must hear Adam shuffle into the room because he turns and smiles, then holds up the coffee pot. “Want some?”

Adam shakes his head then winces as the movement upsets his head even more. “Nah, gonna stick with water.” He sits down and hunches forward, his arms crossed and perched on the table before him. After a moment of hesitation he lowers his head until it’s pillowed on his arms.

“What’s up?” Ronan asks. Adam can’t see him from this angle, but his tone is a little softer than usual, a hint of concern in there. Adam really must look as lousy as he feels.

“Headache,” he says.

There’s no immediate reply but a glass of water appears at Adam’s elbow a few seconds later. He gratefully takes a sip before dropping his head back down.

“Want some breakfast?”

“Not hungry.”

“You’re always hungry.”

This is true and Adam scowls, but he doesn’t feel like eating anything. He can’t decide what will make him feel better.

“C’mon, Parrish. I’ll get you some ibuprofen but you shouldn’t take it on an empty stomach.”

He shrugs and Ronan gives a drawn-out sigh. He pads over and pulls Adam’s hood down, pressing the back of his hand to Adam’s forehead, and then his cheek. Adam turns his head into it and kisses Ronan’s knuckles.

“Will I live?” he asks dryly, and Ronan snorts.

“You’re a little warm, but I’m pretty sure you’ll make it. Eat something, you’ll feel better.”

 _“You_ eat something.”

Ronan sighs again. “Fuck it, I’m making you some toast.”

(Adam eats his toast. But he does so grumpily.)

Once he’s finished the whole plate, Ronan lets him take some ibuprofen, then takes Adam’s hand and leads him through to the living room. He drags him over to the sofa, makes him sit down, and drapes a blanket over him.

It occurs to Adam that he’s never been cared for like this before. Back when he’d still lived with his parents, he’d never even bothered telling his mom when he wasn’t feeling well. There was no point; it wouldn’t get him sympathy or understanding. There was no ibuprofen spare for Adam—it had to be reserved for his father’s hangovers instead.

There was no one to put their hand on his forehead, to make him breakfast or get him some water; no one who cared enough to bundle him up in blankets, no one to ask him if he was feeling any better.

But now there’s Ronan, who is apparently perfectly happy to do all of those things without batting an eye. Like it’s second nature.

He gets Adam a fresh glass of water and puts it on the side table next to where Adam is sitting so it’s in easy reach.

“Sleep it off, Parrish, I’ll be back in a bit and I’ll scrounge up something for us to eat.”

Adam very much does want to go back to sleep, but he also very much does _not_ want to be on his own. “Where are you going?”

“There’s a couple of leaks in the small barn. I’m gonna fix them. Also I’m pretty sure Opal’s hidden a bunch of shit from the fucking tool-shed, so I wanna see if I can track them down.”

The odds of Ronan finding the tools if Opal’s hidden them are slim to none, which means it’s a task that could potentially take hours. As for the leaks in the barn...well, it all depends on _how_ Ronan intends to go about fixing them.

Painfully aware that he’s risking sounding needy, Adam says, “Do you have to do that now?”

Ronan tilts his head to the side, smiling. “Guess not. You want some company?”

Adam nods, and then says, “Ouch,” and puts a hand to his temple. It really is the worst kind of headache.

Ronan sits down beside him. “You _would_ choose your first day off in fucking forever to feel shitty.”

“I did not choose this,” Adam grumbles. The ibuprofen is yet to take the edge off, and now that Ronan’s staying inside instead of going out to do farming chores, Adam feels bad. He’s hardly likely to be much company.

But he wants comfort, and comfort is becoming synonymous with Ronan.

“Can I…” he starts, but then stops again with a little sigh.

Ronan nudges him in the thigh. “Use your words, Parrish,” he says, not unkindly.

Adam pokes Ronan back. “Can I use you as a pillow?”

“Course you can,” Ronan says without hesitation. “Hold on, I’m wearing jeans, they’ll scratch your face.” He grabs the throw cushion from the other corner of the sofa and places it on his lap. “Here.”

Adam lies down on his side, placing his head on the pillow. He closes his eyes and feels Ronan fiddling with the blanket, making sure Adam’s covered properly. His hand lands in Adam’s hair for a second before it wrenches away quickly.

“Shit, sorry,” Ronan says. “That probably won’t help.”

“No,” Adam says, and he feels around until he finds Ronan’s hand and places it back on his head where it was. “No, it will. It’s...you can keep it there.”

Ronan’s hands are warm, his touch gentle as he cards his fingers through Adam’s hair. It’s soothing and sweet and Adam’s eyes start to sting involuntarily. He’s constantly finding himself caught off-guard by the kindest of gestures, and he hopes he never learns to take this for granted.

It doesn’t take long for him to drift off, and when he wakes up again, the light has changed in the living room. It must be well into the afternoon.

In front of him, he can see Opal on the living room floor, a collection of sticks in a pile before her. She seems to be sorting them, but Adam can’t figure out her system; possibly she’s going by taste. Chainsaw periodically hops over to investigate and every time Opal growls until she backs off again.

Ronan’s hand is still in Adam’s hair, and he doesn’t seem to have noticed Adam’s woken up.

His headache is gone, and all he feels is warm.

He stretches, which alerts Ronan to his wakefulness, but he doesn’t sit up yet; he’s too comfortable.

“Afternoon, sleeping beauty. Thought you’d never wake up, I’m fucking starving.”

“You could’ve woken me.”

Ronan doesn’t even consider it. “Nah.”

Adam grins and rolls over, burying his face in Ronan’s middle. He feels rather than hears Ronan laugh, and allows himself to be pulled into a sitting position.

Ronan peers at his face, then nods and kisses his forehead. “Better?”

Adam nods and drops his head onto Ronan’s shoulder. “Better.”

* * *

 

3.

Adam’s room at St Agnes now has a little portable radio; a Christmas gift from Ronan that _looks_ like it could have been bought at a store but was, in fact, not. It’s a dream item that can tune in to any radio station, regardless of location. The reception is always flawless.

He likes having it. It fills the silence when he’s alone, makes the place feel a bit more homely. At the minute he alternates between the classic rock radio station Boyd is so fond of, and a station called Smooth Radio which sounds like it would be completely lame but actually churns out tune after tune after tune.

It’s the former station Adam’s listening to on a Sunday in March when Mass gets out. Ronan usually spends the afternoon with his brothers before they head back to D.C. after church so it’s a bit of a surprise when he knocks on Adam’s door.

“Hey,” Adam says, confused but pleased as Ronan steps in dressed in his Sunday best. “No plans with your brothers today?”

“Oh, they had to rain-check. Matthew accidentally let slip he has a project due tomorrow that he’s yet to start so Declan’s taken him straight back to try and get it done in time.” Ronan grins. “I’m so proud.”

“Of course you are,” Adam says with a snort. He leans forward and kisses Ronan once, twice. “Anyway, hi.”

Ronan kisses him a third time, smiling against his lips. “Hi.”

“It’s not fair that you’re coming here dressed like _that_ when I’m in thrift store jeans and a holey t-shirt.”

“Hey, I _like_ those jeans. Your ass has never looked better.”

“Uh...thanks?” Adam replies, but he’s blushing and trying to hide a grin.

“No problem.” Ronan takes off his suit jacket and throws it onto Adam’s mattress, then tugs at his shirt collar until it’s loose and unruly. The commercial break on the radio ends and Journey’s _Any Way You Want It_ starts playing. Ronan shoots the radio vitriolic look. “Seriously, Parrish? Do you not get enough of this shit at Boyd’s?”

Adam shrugs. “I like it. It’s familiar.”

He’s all about the comforting and the familiar at the moment. He’s due to start hearing back from colleges pretty much any time now, which has him antsy and tense almost constantly. It’s why he’s got the radio on whenever he’s alone now; the silence lets him get too much inside his head. It’s harder to panic about his future when he’s blasting 80s jams.

“Hey, Ronan,” he says, and Ronan shifts his gaze from the radio to Adam, still glaring. It makes Adam smile, and he takes a step forward. “Wanna dance with me?”

Ronan’s eyes widen for a second; he doesn’t seem to know what to say. He shifts on his feet. “Not much of a dancer, Parrish.” But it’s not a _no._

“Me neither,” Adam admits. He tentatively adds, “I don’t think it matters if we’re the only ones here.”

He’s starting to regret asking. Ronan’s not usually one for leaving Adam hanging, but then again Adam’s never asked him to dance before. It’s more than likely a self-conscious Ronan thing, rather than anything to do with Adam.

Ronan looks at Adam and sighs. “This fucking _song,_ though _._ Gimme a sec.”

He goes over to the radio and changes it from the classic rock radio station to Adam’s other current favourite, Smooth Radio. The tail end of a song Adam’s unfamiliar with fades out, and then the opening bars of _God Only Knows_ start to play.

“Huh. Beach Boys.” Ronan nods approvingly. “That’ll do.”

He holds his hand out towards Adam, and Adam takes it, letting Ronan pull him close. He immediately wraps his arms around Ronan’s neck and kisses him quickly on the cheek before resting his head on Ronan’s shoulder.

Adam’s never particularly thought about dancing with anyone before. It’s crossed his mind, sure, but never in any concrete way. He doesn’t know exactly why he asked Ronan now. Maybe it’s just because there’s music on and Ronan’s dressed so nicely. Adam doesn’t really care to analyse it too much; there’s a song playing with a pretty melody, and it’s nice to be held, and maybe that’s the only reason he needs. Plus the kind of dancing they’re doing is really just a hug with a bit of swaying—there’s nothing to it, no possible way to mess it up.

So quietly that Adam’s not even sure he’s aware he’s doing it, Ronan is humming along to the lyrics. He noses at Adam’s ear which tickles and makes him laugh, and Ronan somehow pulls him even closer then tilts his head so he can capture Adam’s lips in a slow, languid kiss.

The song’s a short one, so it’s over before they’ve decided they want to stop kissing. They get a quarter of the way into _La Isla Bonita_ before Ronan breaks off with a curse. _“Fuck._ No. No Madonna, it makes me think of Cheng.”

He turns the radio off and pulls his phone out of his pocket. His smile turns sharp. “I’ve got one, Parrish.”

Adam shakes his head fondly. “You’ve indulged me enough for one day, Lynch, you’re all good.”

“Nah. Trust me, you’ll love this. It’s romantic as shit, try not to swoon.”

Ronan evidently finds the song he’s looking for, presses play and puts his phone on the window-sill.

In retrospect, Adam should have known to be suspicious.

There’s a tiny delay, but then the unmistakable sound of the Murder Squash Song starts to play through the tinny phone speaker.

“Fuck _you,_ Ronan Lynch,” Adam says, but he’s not even sure Ronan can hear him as he’s burst out laughing at Adam’s expression.

It takes him a second to compose himself, but when he has Ronan skips forward and hooks his arm through Adam’s, spinning him around.

“I will never forgive you for this betrayal,” Adam says, but he’s laughing too hard for it to have any bite, and Ronan’s enthusiasm is infectious. They swap arms and skip around the other way, drifting further across the small room until they collapse in a tangle of limbs on Adam’s mattress.

Ronan’s eyes are still bright with amusement, and he hovers over Adam, bracketing his face with his forearms.

“I love this song,” he says happily. “It’s gonna be first dance at my wedding one day.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Adam grumbles, then snaps his mouth shut quick when he realises what he’s said.

“What was that?” Ronan asks, absolute delight crossing his face.

“Shut up,” Adam says, embarrassed, trying to cover his face. Ronan’s not having that; he pins Adam’s hands out of the way and then peppers his face with kisses.

“Okay, we can compromise,” he says. “I’ll have this and you can pick something whiny and we’ll mix them together. It’ll be a fucking trainwreck.”

“Wow, Lynch,” Adam says drily, but he’s quietly grateful for the light tone, that Ronan’s not making fun of him. “You should go into wedding planning.”

“Maybe later,” Ronan says flippantly, and leans down and kisses Adam like it’s the very first time, like it’s the only thing he’s been thinking about, and the urgency of it knocks the breath out of Adam.

He loves the quiet moments, the gentle unhurried kisses and affection, but he loves this too; the way Ronan kisses him like it might be their last opportunity, like he’s waited long enough and he couldn’t possibly wait any longer.

Feeling so wanted is still such a novel feeling for Adam.

He cups Ronan’s face and kisses him back with all the reverence that he deserves. And then he pulls away.

“Ronan, for the love of _God,_ turn that fucking song off.”

* * *

 

4.

After putting aside some money for months, Adam finally has enough to purchase himself a cell phone shortly after graduation.

It’s secondhand, but it’s still a smartphone, and it has a shitty camera and emojis, and its existence means Adam can call or text people directly—directly! What a concept!—and vice-versa.

He’s on pay-as-you-go for now as it’s currently his cheapest option. As long as he’s careful, it should be fine.

(“I could’ve just dreamt you a phone with unlimited minutes and unlimited texts and unlimited data and it would, y’know, be fucking _free,”_ Ronan pointed out at Nino’s when Adam showed it off for the first time.

“No,” Adam said. “I saved up for it specially. It’s the principle of the thing.”

“You can dream me a miracle phone if you want, Ronan, I don’t care,” Blue said. Adam shot her a look. “What? I’m poor.”

 _“I’m_ poor.”

“I said I’d get you a phone, Blue.”

“Do not start with me, Gansey.”

He sighed. “No one will let me get them gifts.”

Henry shrugged. “You can get _me_ a gift, _I_ don’t mind.”

“Same,” Ronan said.)

The problem with getting the phone while there’s still a whole summer before he leaves for college, is that it’s a novelty, and he can’t help himself.

He’s picked up a lot of extra hours at Boyd’s, and he finds himself sending messages whenever he gets a chance. (He’s got WhatsApp, after all; as long as he’s connected to the WiFi, it costs him nothing.) These are usually replies to the texts from Gansey or Henry, or Blue using one of their phones.

He misses them already even though they’ve only just left, and he likes getting their updates so easily. The majority of them are blurry pictures from Henry, the latest of which was a selfie of Henry grinning in the passenger seat of the Pig, captioned: **i have finally revoked gansey’s rights to the aux cord**.

Other than keeping up with the Sarchengsey’s, Adam _also_ finds himself sending messages to Ronan. He’s not sure why, exactly; he sees Ronan every day as it is and it’s not like he’s asking any questions that are important or time sensitive and need replying to.

It’s little things he sends Ronan; tiny anecdotes about what he’s doing, snapshots of anything and everything, a little note to say there had been no milk at the Barns that morning but he’d pick some up on his way over, a line to let Ronan know his shift had run over and he’d be a little late.

Ronan’s hatred of his phone is infamous and so Adam’s not really expecting him to reply, which is why he’s a little surprised that it stings when he doesn’t.

Adam doesn’t want to make a big deal over it because it’s _not_ a big deal; he’s sure Ronan’s seen the messages—enjoyed them, even—but that it just didn’t occur to him to reply. Why would it when he’s only a few hours away from seeing Adam in the flesh?

But it’s put a thought in Adam’s mind; a thought of being at college, a few months from now, of texting Ronan about classes or his day or that he misses him and receiving nothing but radio silence in return.

He knows that isn’t fair. Ronan will make an effort when Adam’s not here, Adam _knows_ he will; nothing that they’ve been doing and saying for months and months now leads Adam to believe that his absence will suddenly make Ronan stop caring. But there’s still that traitorous part of his heart that whispers he’s not worth the effort.

When he gets back to the Barns later that evening, Ronan’s in the kitchen, looking after something that’s in a pan on the stove. Adam puts the milk he picked up in the fridge, kisses Ronan’s shoulder, then goes to shower the day off of him.

By the time he’s out, dinner is ready. Adam’s half expecting box mac and cheese, but Ronan has slowly been expanding his repertoire in regards to food. As Adam will eat virtually anything, he’s a pretty good test subject. Tonight, it’s some kind of tray-baked chicken with veggies and mashed potatoes.

Ronan hooks his ankle with Adam’s under the table; it somehow makes the food taste even nicer.

Later, when the washing up has been abandoned (“It needs to _soak,_ Parrish, trust me”) and the hour is late and they’re sprawled together on the sofa, Ronan presses his face into Adam’s chest. He nuzzles into him and then tilts his head to the side. Adam absently rubs his fingers through the short bristles of Ronan’s hair.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Ronan says.

“Hm? Oh. Just tired.” It’s true, but it’s not the whole truth. “Hey, did you see Henry’s message today?”

Ronan snorts. “Yeah. Looks like the Pig is Bon Jovi free for a while. I guess there really is a limit to how many times you can hear _Livin’ On A Prayer_ before you start to feel homicidal.”

Adam laughs a little but his heart’s not completely in it. He nudges Ronan’s shoulder gently. “Did you reply?”

“To who, Cheng? Nah.”

“Why not?”

Ronan shrugs. “Did you?”

“Course I did.”

“There you go then, I’ve basically replied by proxy through you.”

Adam sighs. “That’s not how that works.”

“Whatever.” Ronan yawns then sits up and stretches. He gets a good look at Adam’s face and freezes. He narrows his eyes in concern. “What’s wrong?”

Adam doesn’t know how to say what he thinks he needs to say. “I dunno. Nothing.” But it’s not nothing. “Have you spoken to _any_ of them since they left?”

“Uhh, Gansey called when they had stopped for gas yesterday, I spoke to him for a couple of minutes. And I sent them that picture of Chainsaw wearing the tiny cowboy hat.” Ronan had found an old childhood cowboy toy the other day with detachable hat and shenanigans had ensued.

Adam lightly pinches his lower lip, a nervous gesture. “But you haven’t been in contact every day?”

“No? Adam, they’ve not even been gone a whole week yet, what’s this about?”

Adam groans, covering his face with his hands. “It’s stupid.”

He feels Ronan gently take hold of his wrists, pulling his hands away so he can see his face. “I bet it’s not. Out with it, Parrish.”

He supposes it really is better out than in, where he can obsess over it and drive himself crazy. “You didn’t reply to any of my messages,” he finally says, voice impossibly small.

“Oh,” Ronan says, and he rocks back in the seat, looking thoughtful. “No, I guess not. Was I supposed to?”

“No,” Adam says quickly. “Or yes. I don’t know. Maybe at least one of them?”

“I didn’t think.”

“I mean, it’s not important. I know there wasn’t anything important in there, and I know if I’d been stuck and asking for help or something you’d have responded. I know it was all just...inane shit or whatever—” He’s babbling now, and Ronan looks a little guilty which Adam doesn’t like; he’s not trying to accuse Ronan of not being attentive enough because that just isn’t true. He’s just trying to ask for something that he’s never had to ask for before, because it hasn’t been relevant until now. He takes a breath and smiles. “Okay, let’s try this again.”

Ronan nods.

“This is more important for when I’m at college, but sometimes when I text you, can you text me back?”

Ronan looks confused. “Parrish…”

Adam bulls on. “I know you hate your phone. And I know I’ve been a bit much ‘cause it’s still a novelty and I’m getting used to having it, but when I’m that far away, I just...I just think it’ll help, if I can text you something dumb and have you reply once in a while.”

 _“Parrish.”_ Ronan almost looks a little offended. “Of course I’m gonna fucking text you when you’re away. Not just sometimes. I’m gonna be obnoxious about it. Did you think I wouldn’t text you?”

Adam shrugs, sheepish. “I don’t know. You never really text anyone if you can help it.”

“You’re not just anyone.”

Ronan and Adam are months past their first _I-love-you’s_ but there’s something about when Ronan just casually throws out things like this that makes Adam’s breath catch in his throat.

“I’m sorry I didn’t reply to any of your messages today,” Ronan continues. “I just didn’t think, and I knew I’d be seeing you tonight.”

“It’s okay,” Adam says, and it really, really is. He’s simultaneously reassured about both the future and the fact that he hasn’t been an annoyance today. Getting the words out is hard sometimes, but it’s worth it.

Ronan smiles, and grabs his phone off the coffee table. “I guess I could stand to text Gansey back a bit more often, huh?”

Adam shrugs. “Maybe a _bit._ You know he misses you.”

“Alright. I’ll reply to every one in, like, ten that he sends.”

“One in five.”

Ronan heaves a put-upon sigh. “Fuck it, fine. One in five it is.” He starts typing away, ostensibly to send Gansey his long overdue reply, but a moment later, Adam’s phone buzzes in his pocket.

His message is, of course, from Ronan, and it merely says: **love u**

He’s still smiling at his phone when the follow up comes through: 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

“Wow, Lynch,” Adam says, looking up to see Ronan looking incredibly pleased with himself. “You really _are_ going to be obnoxious about this.”

“Parrish,” Ronan says, and his smile is sharp. He takes Adam’s hand and pulls him closer. “You have _no_ idea.”

* * *

 

5.

“You have everything?”

It feels like it’s the fifteenth time Ronan’s asked the question, but Adam still finds himself mentally replaying the morning, remembering packing and taking everything out to the car. He pats his pockets; wallet, keys, phone.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah. I think so.”

“You’re all set then, man.” Ronan’s smile is genuine, but there’s something a little tight about it. They’ve known this was coming all summer but it doesn’t make it any easier now that it’s here.

“Okay,” Adam says.

They’re out in the driveway standing next to Adam’s car. He’d said goodbye to Opal earlier on and he thinks she’s been hiding since then. No doubt she’ll reappear to keep Ronan company once Adam has gone.

He and Ronan have been saying goodbye in their own way over the last couple of days. Always touching in some capacity, dragging out every kiss, every hug, every joke, and every conversation. A small part of Adam wishes that Ronan could come with him to drop him off; see the campus, see Adam’s room, have some kind of idea of where Adam is when he’s not at home with Ronan.

Then again, the thought of Ronan having to leave and then drive all the way back to the Barns on his own is hard to take. There’s no point in dragging out the goodbye for that long; it would only make it hurt more. Besides, Adam has his own car, now properly functional thanks to Ronan’s dream-fix. He likes that he’ll have the car with him at college. It’s a comfort to know that should he ever _need_ to, he could just drive back at any time.

He doesn’t want to get in a habit of that or anything, but it’s still nice to have that security blanket. The knowledge that he could jump in the car and be back in Ronan’s arms by the end of the day. Maybe just the thought of that will be enough to carry him through until his regularly scheduled Ronan visits.

On the flipside of that, it feels impossible to leave. The recent discovery that if Ronan goes too long without dreaming anything new it’ll cause black stuff to leak out of his nose and ears is alarming to say the least, even if they know how to prevent it now.

It just makes it feel like things are _happening_ again, and whatever it is, it feels right that they should face it together.

It also feels right that Adam should go to college. He _wants_ to. He’s _always_ wanted to. He’s earned it through blood, sweat, and tears.

He stumbles forward and Ronan’s arms open for him automatically; Adam sinks into them. His arms are around Ronan’s back and clutching into his t-shirt as he scrunches his face up and presses it into Ronan’s neck.

“This is the right thing, right?” he asks shakily when he can finally get the words out. “Tell me I’m doing the right thing.”

“Adam, hey,” Ronan says, and his voice is _so_ soft, his words chosen with _such_ care. He pulls away a bit but cups Adam’s face in his hands. “Listen to me: this is your dream and you are absolutely doing the right thing. Okay? Don’t ever question that.”

He kisses Adam and it’s this coupled with the reassurance that settles Adam’s resolve. He leans his forehead against Ronan’s and closes his eyes until he feels steady and sure again.

He opens his eyes. “You gonna miss me?”

“So fucking much.”

Adam nods. “Fuck. Same.” he sighs. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“I know, Adam. Love you back. Always.”

Adam kisses him again and he lets this one last longer even though he really has to leave if he wants to beat traffic. Ronan finally lets him go with a shaky smile.

“Get outta here, Parrish, I’m busy.”

Adam manages a laugh at that and opens the driver’s door. “Alright, alright, I’m going.” He takes a breath and holds Ronan’s gaze for another few seconds. “I’ll call you when I get there.”

“Damn right, you will.”

* * *

 

+1.

Adam loves college.

He loves everything about it, from his classes to the campus to his dorm room. He likes that there’s always something going on, he likes his roommate (thank God), he likes that the main library is open until late.

He’s busy and he’s working hard and it’s so much more than he ever imagined it would be. He’s a member of a _study group_ for crying out loud.

Still, there’s the times when he misses Ronan so much it physically hurts, when he can’t sleep because Ronan’s not there, when he’s never been closer to driving back even if it’s just for one day.

He manages not to, obviously, but the impulse is there, frighteningly close to the surface.

Ronan, for his part, has been great. Adam doesn’t inundate him with messages but he does send them quite often, and Ronan always, always replies. More than that, sometimes he texts first. Sometimes it’s just memes or emojis, but he always seems to know when Adam’s feeling particularly homesick, and it’s then that the photographs come through; of Opal, of Chainsaw, of the view from the porch, of Ronan himself.

They speak on the phone at least once a week; more if either of them needs to. Ronan once called in the middle of the night after a nightmare and never before has Adam so strongly wished he could teleport. It feels useless being so far away; he lets his words soothe as much as they can, but all he really wants to do is curl himself around Ronan and hold him until he falls back to sleep.

So there’s lows, for sure.

By the time Ronan’s first visit rolls around, it’s six weeks into the semester, and it has been both the longest and the shortest six weeks of Adam’s entire life, because time’s funny like that.

By some stroke of good fortune, Adam’s roommate is going home for the weekend and won’t be there, so they have the room to themselves. Ronan arrives on Friday, shortly before Adam’s last class of the day finishes.

He feels his phone buzz in his pocket but has yet to break his ‘no texting in class’ rule and he’s not about to start now.

As soon as class is over, Adam all but bolts for the door, checking his messages as he goes. There’s several, all from Ronan:

**here**

**i parked in a student lot but idk if im allowed to park there?**

**will i get a parking ticket cuz heads up i wont pay it**

**there’s a lot of fuckin nerds on your campus**

**...im lost**

**hurry up and get out of class parrish, save me from the nerds they keep staring at me**

The last message is time-stamped two minutes earlier and Adam stifles a laugh as he presses call and brings the phone to his ear.

Ronan answers almost immediately. _“Finally, Parrish.”_

“Sorry, sorry, I just got out of class. Where are you?”

_“Fuck, I dunno. There’s like...big concrete steps? And a couple of buildings?”_

“Uh huh. Does one of the buildings have ‘library’ written over the entrance by any chance?”

_“Uhhh, how about that, so it does. You know where I am then?”_

“Yeah, I’m pretty much there now.” Adam rounds a corner and heads towards the main campus courtyard. The steps and the student union come into view, and the library on the left. Ronan’s leaning against a pillar with his phone to his ear, but his back to Adam. “I can see you.”

He sees Ronan immediately look left and right, and feels a bubble of happiness well up inside him. Ronan was waiting for him, Ronan had missed him, Ronan was _here._

_“Where?”_

“Turn around.”

It’s almost comical how quickly Ronan pivots, and as soon as he spots Adam a smile spreads across his face; the helpless kind that you couldn’t suppress even if you wanted to. Adam’s pretty sure he’s wearing a matching one right now.

Adam hangs up and Ronan does the same, and it only takes a second for Ronan to close the gap and gather Adam up in a hug that sweeps him off his feet.

“Fuck, Adam, you look _so good,”_ Ronan says.

Adam can’t even reply yet; his senses are in overdrive with Ronan squeezing him so tight, with Ronan’s voice in his ear, stubble on his cheek. He’s barely aware of the people walking past. All he wants to do is freeze time and stay in this hug forever.

“You’re _here,”_ he finally manages a minute (or an hour or a year) later.

Slowly, they pull apart, and Ronan grins. “Yep, I made it.” He looks around at the courtyard, taking it all in. Adam has had trouble imagining what Ronan would look like here, whether he’d seem out of place, whether it would be strange to try and reconcile these two starkly different parts of his world.

He wishes he hadn’t worried now; all it means is he will now have Ronan-related memories to attach to his college life. When he walks past the library in the future, he will remember this day every single time.

“Come on then, college boy,” Ronan says airily. “Show me around.”

Adam grins, unable to stop himself. He adjusts the strap of his bag over his shoulder and reaches his other hand towards Ronan. “Hold my hand?”

Ronan rolls his eyes, but it’s fond. He takes Adam’s offered hand, interlocking their fingers and giving a small but meaningful squeeze. “Obviously, Parrish.”

Adam gives him the grand tour. He shows Ronan the building most of his classes are in, he shows him the gym and the little coffee shop where he sometimes goes if he has time between classes. He takes Ronan to the Art department because they have a display on there at the moment and he thinks Ronan might appreciate it, and he spends longer there than anywhere else so Adam was right about that.

They obviously go to the library, and Adam even takes him to the library computer room—(“That’s my favourite computer.” “Why?” “Because it’s closest to the printers.”)—before finishing off the tour with a visit to the student union where they play a couple of games of pool.

He likes that in the future, when he calls Ronan and tells him where he’s been on any given day, Ronan will now have some context for that.

After that, Adam takes Ronan to the cafeteria and uses his meal-card to get them both some food. They’ll venture off-campus for something more exciting tomorrow, but for now, Ronan’s been driving most of the day, and it’s getting dark, and all Adam _really_ wants to do is get Ronan back to his room where they can shut the rest of the world out for a little while.

They swing by the BMW on the way back to Adam’s room so that Ronan can pick up his backpack, and from there it’s just a short walk to the dorm.

Adam’s barely got the door closed and locked before Ronan presses him up against it, and they inevitably gravitate towards the bed, losing items of clothing as they go, too impatient to look where they’re going. For a while they don’t say much of anything at all, with the exception of Ronan’s “Jesus _fuck,_ this bed is tiny” before Adam swallowed any further complaints with a kiss.

Later— _much_ later—Adam sits at the bottom end of his bed while Ronan lounges at the top. He bought mini Reese’s Peanut-Butter Cups with him because he knows they’re Adam’s favourites, and Adam’s been throwing the occasional one at Ronan, trying to land them in his mouth.

They have about an eighty percent success rate, usually only missing when Ronan moves his head at the last minute.

One bounces off his forehead and rolls onto the floor.

“Quick, three second rule,” Adam says, and Ronan snatches it up. He studies it for a moment before popping it into his mouth.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Adam says.

Ronan adjusts his position, propping the pillows up behind him, before sinking down again.

“Did you know that you ask me for like, affection sometimes?” Adam doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that, and he gestures for a further explanation. Ronan continues: “Like earlier, when you asked if I’d hold your hand. And other times, y’know? Sometimes you ask, and I guess I just wondered if you noticed you were doing it.”

“Yeah, I’m aware of it, at least most of the time I think. Why, does it bother you?”

“Nah, course not,” Ronan says. “You can ask me for anything you want, especially stuff that’s so easily given. But like...you know you don’t _have_ to ask, right? You can just hold my hand or hug me or whatever and it’s...it’s fucking cool, man, I _want_ you to. I’m never gonna, like, push you away? And I dunno, Parrish, it worries me that you might think I would.”

Adam nods; he occupies his hands by fiddling with the leather bands on Ronan’s wrists. Ronan waits patiently as Adam gathers his thoughts. At length, he says, “I think that’s why.”

There’s a pause as Ronan waits for him to elaborate, but when he doesn’t, Ronan brushes a thumb gently across his cheek, just to get him to look up. “What do you mean?”

There’s a vulnerability to Ronan’s expression, an open look to his face that tells Adam he really wants to understand. Ronan’s always been good at implicitly understanding how Adam works, but he supposes not everything is self-evident.

“I guess,” he starts, then shrugs, “I guess it’s because you make me brave.”

Ronan frowns. “Fuck that. You’re brave all on your own.”

“No, I don’t mean...ugh, okay. It’s like you said—I _know_ you’re gonna let me hold your hand, I know you’re not gonna shove me away if I hug you, I know you like to kiss me and stuff. And that’s the _thing._ You make me brave enough to _ask.”_

Ronan hesitates, then he smiles. There’s something shy about it. “Oh,” he says. “Okay.”

Affection is something Adam’s never been able to ask for before. He snatched it in pieces from Blue; anything he could get, anything she offered.

But it’s different with Ronan.

With Ronan he doesn’t have to be anxious; he doesn’t have to be afraid. He’s not a nuisance, his existence not a burden, his needs not brushed aside as unimportant.

He doesn’t know quite how to articulate that, though. So instead, he leans forwards and kisses Ronan, slow and gentle, and hopes the message gets across.

When he pulls away, he says, “It’s nice to know that if I need reassurance, or affection, I can ask for it. I like to remind myself that I _can_ ask. Is that okay?”

“Fucking—” Ronan lies down on his side and grabs Adam’s arm, pulling him down with him. They face each other, Ronan tangling his legs with Adam’s, and he takes Adam’s hand and brings it to his mouth. _“Yes,_ it’s okay. I only wanted to check that you _knew_ it was okay, or...fuck, I dunno what I’m saying.” He kisses Adam’s knuckles. “And besides, I’m not a mind-reader, so of _course_ you should ask if you need to. I’m not gonna automatically know if you need me to like...sing you to sleep or something.” Ronan laughs and shakes his head.

Adam raises his eyebrows. “Sing me to sleep, huh? I didn’t even know that was on the table.”

Ronan freezes, realising his misstep. “Shit, forget I said that.”

“Never. I am never going to forget that ever.”

Ronan sighs. “You’re a shit, you know that?”

“I do.” Adam smiles. “I really, really do.”

***

Late that night, snuggled together on Adam’s tiny single-bed, Adam hovers in that weird limbo between sleep and awake, where everything feels hazy and light. His head is on Ronan’s chest, and he can feel Ronan lightly tracing patterns on his back.

“Hey, Ronan?”

“Mm?”

“Will you sing me to sleep?”

Ronan sighs. “You are taking advantage of my love for you.”

Adam mock gasps. “Who, me?”

Ronan squeezes him lightly. “If you were anyone else, Parrish,” he says, and Adam smiles into Ronan’s tank-top, because he’s _not_ anyone else. Not to Ronan.

“Any requests?” Ronan asks.

Adam shrugs. “Your choice.”

“Alright, Parrish, your funeral. _Squash one, squash two_ —”

“Ronan, _no!”_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> the title is lyrics from moscow by autoheart.
> 
> hope you enjoyed! <33


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